


Thorny

by daisybrien



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Anger Management, Bickering, Gen, Humor, IPRE, Injury, Injury Recovery, M/M, Tending to Wounds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-12-07 13:48:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11624820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisybrien/pseuds/daisybrien
Summary: Merle does something really, really stupid.





	Thorny

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: "This is, by far, the dumbest thing you've ever done"
> 
> TLC had this show about emergency rooms and one was about a girl who fell onto cacti and they had to wax the thorns out. So here. Inspiration works in mysterious ways.

There are moments where Davenport has no doubts about the importance of this mission, when he looks at his aged and lonesome crew and sees the best that his world’s humanity had to offer up to the stars. There are times where scribbled and meticulous ink stored away provides precious information, when tinkering hands and curious eyes present him something beyond worth as they unlock the magic beneath the mechanics. The bravery and impulse and studious diligence awe him equally, so tremendously different but so incredible to see. Along with the hazel eyes he came to love, the rough and dirt-caked hands that gently care and inspire every heart they touch, when Davenport loses hope there are times he can look to his crew and find it again, in the best of the best.

This was the opposite of one of those moments.

“This is, by far,” Davenport says, grinding his teeth in barely pent fury, exasperation making his weary hands tremble, “the single most dumbest thing you’ve ever done.”

Merle flinches under his grip as Davenport pokes him with the tweezers in his shaking grip, a yelp of pain escaping from him as his bemused grin twists into a grimace. Davenport may sympathize with the pain he’s in later, but he sure as hell isn’t now; nope, not at all, not with Magnus’ laughter of agony echoing from the other room, not with Barry and Lup’s grating, howling glee making his head ache, as if two of his crewmates incapacitated where the funniest joke they’ve ever heard, not when Lucretia is god-knows-where, probably scribbling in her notebook instead of getting stuff for the ‘better idea’ she had before running out of the room pale-faced.

“Hey!” Merle protests. “Be careful with those!”

Davenport shoots a glare up from him, happy to see the dwarf shrink slightly under his gaze. He’s bitterly glad, even though a part of him knows he shouldn’t be, happy to see Merle’s bravado shrivel up just a bit.

“Be careful like you weren’t?” Davenport chimes in, his sarcastic chipper tone dripping with anger. He finds another thorn embedded in Merle’s skin, and with a flick of the wrist plucks it out, wiping residue blood away more harshly than he needs to. “Like you decided not to be?”

“Dav, don’t be like that,” Merle says. His grin is back, more worried than amused, as if Davenport were the one injured. His stomach twists, lodging itself in his throat.

“I will absolutely ‘be like that’!” Davenport snaps back. “Especially after being so damn reckless!” He finds his rhythm again, trying and failing to get such tiny thorns even with the careful edge of tweezers. Time-consuming and meticulous, the task only makes the red at the edges of his vision start seeping further into it. “What were you even thinking?!”

“I thought it would be fun,” Merle says quietly, looking away.

“Fun!” Davenport almost laughs. “Tell me Merle, what exactly is fun about following Magnus onto a toboggan,” as he recounts the events, Merle curls into himself, laughing to ease himself into his own embarrassment, “down a muddy slope. Into a field of cacti!”

“They were a new species I wanted to study!”

“By flying headlong into them?!” Davenport retorts, sitting back to pinch the bridge of his nose. Deep breath. Exhale.

Merle doesn’t answer back, letting Davenport gain little headway with each unsuccessful pull of thorn out of his skin. Merle keeps his wincing to himself, the tension palpable in the air between them.

By the time Lucretia enters the room, arms laden with cosmetic products and taking to the sombre silence of the room almost instantly, Davenport starts to feel guilty. His anger, hot in his cheeks and broiling in his stomach, settles down, instead a nauseating pit in his gut.

“Merle,” Davenport says. “I’m sorry for being so angry, you know I get heated and it’s no excuse-”

“S’okay, Dav,” Merle says softly. “I was stupid. 

“At least I’m fine,” he continues, and Davenport feels his chest constrict as he looks up to meet his gaze; a black eye the size of a saucer lining one gorgeous hazel eye, with gashes along his arms and a chafe on his cheek almost purple from the swelling, he looks nowhere near fine. Davenport tells him this.

“Looks worse than it is,” Merle assures. “First rule of medicine. You should learn that.”

“I’ll have to, if I’m gonna have to keep tending to you like this,” and they both laugh at that, albeit a bit sadly.

“I’m sorry, Davenport.” Merle shakes his head. “I keep making you worry, and you got enough on your plate as it is,” he sighs, taking the gnome’s hand and bringing it to his lips for a chaste kiss. “I’ll be better.”

Davenport smiles. “I’ll try to be better too.” 

Their attention is taken by a clatter as Lucretia fiddles with something. They cough, pulling apart before Davenport takes to her findings. “So, what’s your plan?”

“I’m giving Merle a spa day,” she says, her eyes shining with mischief and a wordless apology. She holds up a jar of cosmetic wax heated into goo, strips of fabric laid out by her knees. “I’m so sorry Merle, but we’re going to have to wax the thorns out.”

Merle’s eyes widen in sheer terror, and Davenport can almost hear Lup’s gasp from outside, her voice calling the others to crowd by the door because dear god, their going to wax the poor dwarf’s poor body, hair, thorn, and all. They can already see her face in the doorway, alight with anticipation. Taako stands behind her, camera in hand.

Davenport turns to Merle, still in denial of his fate. “Absolutely not.”

“Absolutely yes,” Davenport replies. “Gotta go what you gotta do.” He turns with an apology, readying himself for the pandemonium. “Barry, hold him down.”


End file.
